Rapture
by princesstaranee
Summary: Rapture, n: An intense feeling of pleasure. Ecstasy. Rapture, vb: The survival of certain people at the Second Coming of Christ according to some denominations.


Rapture

_Rapture, n: An intense feeling of pleasure. Ecstasy. Rapture, vb: The survival of certain people at the Second Coming of Christ according to some denominations._

_**Hermione Granger's Flat**_

_**London**_

_**Saturday 12**__**th**__** June 2004**_

_**7:51pm**_

Hermione stood in her bedroom, hungrily looking for faults in her reflection. She was wearing a long, scarlet sleeveless dress that had shreds of a red silk veil attached from the shoulders, cascading down her back and when she stood still, they enveloped her like a cloak. The strips sat on the floor like the train to a wedding dress. The skirt fell wide from the waist down, but there was no seam to attach the bodice to the skirt. She had found that rather impressive. Her hair fell freely in curls, making a change since she had had it magically straightened, having grown tired of its unruliness. Her lips had been painted a matching red and her eyes had been dusted with gold some time earlier, so that now some of it had fallen onto her lashes, making them glitter elegantly when they caught the light. Her jewellery was gold and set with rubies that a goblin acquaintance had lent her. She sighed, concluding that she looked satisfactory enough and slipped on a pair of gold sandals. She picked up her wand from her bedside cabinet and looked a little sadly at the ring that sat in the box next to it. It would match perfectly, she thought ruefully. It was a shame she had no cause to wear it. Before she could sit down and cry over it again, however, she turned on the spot and Disapparated.

_**Malfoy Manor and Gardens**_

_**Wiltshire**_

_**Saturday 12**__**th**__** June 2004**_

_**7:56pm**_

Malfoy Manor was still dark and looming, Hermione conceded as she walked up the drive, but nonetheless impressive. Gravel crunched under her feet but a charm prevented her heels from sinking into the mud below. It flashed across her mind momentarily that they had done the thing properly. Even the blue lawns seemed to be radiating music. The drive had been lit with little flames in jars, which flickered prettily in the cool evening air. There was no one else around; it seemed she was late.

As she walked up the grand staircase, the huge door swung open of its own accord. Everyone was gathered in the entrance hall, a huge, marble room that resembled Hogwarts' Entrance Hall, only it was considerably smaller and the main staircase sat straight ahead of the door, rather than to the left. The ceiling was also in sight.

Hermione nodded awkwardly upon seeing Pansy Parkinson and her beau, both dressed in a striking green, as the dress code of House colours dictated. Her eyes glanced around the Hall and fell upon Ginny. She was wearing a backless dress apparently made entirely of gold sequins and her hair had been tied up in a tight bun. She was talking to Lavender Brown, who was, incidentally, wearing lavender. She stuck to the dress code by wearing a ruby-set gold pendant and ruby earrings. Ron, in red dress robes, walked up beside her and kissed her on the cheek. Hermione flushed with jealousy as Ginny caught her eye and excused herself.

'It's good to see you,' she said, smiling warmly.

'You too. Is it me or is everyone here with someone?' Hermione asked, her voice heavy with irony. The last few years had been filled with weddings. Not the least humiliating had been that of Ginny and Harry, as Hermione had been chief bridesmaid while Ron was best man.

'Well, apparently, we have to dance,' Ginny replied wryly.

'This is a bit tasteful, isn't it? For a Slytherin-hosted do.'

'Kingsley is coming. I believe after he leaves the _real_ party begins. I can honestly say I shall have left by then. I'm only here because Harry didn't want to come alone.'

'I was wondering that. I _had_ thought this was for the class of 1998.'

'Me too, but Harry took me as a plus one. It's a shame Luna couldn't be here.'

Hermione murmured her agreement. Luna would have been a companion in her solitude, though hers was through choice.

'Hermione! Ginny! It's good to see you!' a loud voice exclaimed. The girls turned and saw Neville Longbottom striding up to them. 'How are you both?'

'Good, thanks,' Ginny replied cheerfully. 'How's married life?'

'Interesting. It's a shame, really, that I've spent most of our first year away teaching, but Hannah doesn't mind. We've just bought the Leaky Cauldron from Tom. He's retiring, so we can move out of my pokey flat.'

'That's great!' cried Hermione, genuinely pleased to see Neville so happy. It was a relief to have someone new to talk to; she hadn't seen Neville since his wedding, and obviously there hadn't been much time to chat.

Suddenly, a pair of grand doors opened to the right of the hall.

'Good evening, guests. Welcome to Malfoy Manor – it is a pleasure to be hosting this reunion,' Narcissa Malfoy's voice soared pleasantly over the crowd. 'If you would like to come through, dinner will be served shortly.'

Hermione moved elegantly through the crowd towards the dining room, where Draco Malfoy and his partner were greeting people. She tried and failed to avoid them.

'Miss Granger,' he said courteously. 'This is my -'

'- wife,' interrupted the blonde girl, who was wearing an elegant black dress with silver accessories. 'We were recently married, in a small ceremony. Astoria _Malfoy_, now,' she beamed, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Hermione frowned, and Malfoy looked pained. 'And who are you with?'

'No one,' Hermione said in a small voice.

'But how will you dance?' the girl simpered.

'Alone, I suppose,' she snapped. She walked through the doorway, trying to escape the pair. She was a fool – a fool for coming, a fool for thinking she would be welcome, a fool to think she could stand this place. A general fool, she thought, but she caught Malfoy's eye and he smiled welcomingly at her. Her heart settled a little until she saw the new Mrs Malfoy glaring at her as she took her seat. _Fool_.

_**The Room of Requirement**_

_**Seventh Floor, opposite Barnabas the Barmy, Hogwarts**_

_**Saturday 23**__**rd**__** November 1996**_

_**1:32pm**_

Hermione could _not_ believe Ron Weasley. He completely deserved those birds being set on him, she thought fiercely. But Harry had brought it on; he shouldn't have followed her. She would have been content to sit by herself with her birds, but no, Harry _had_ to check on her. She paced three times in front of the wall where the door would appear.

_I need a place to think. I need a place to think. I need a place to think._ The door did, of course, appear and she walked in. The Room had done the thing well, she thought. It looked rather like their music room at home, where Hermione's piano, her mum's clarinet and her dad's saxophone lived. The only difference here was that the Room was at least twice the size of the room at home, and there was a grand piano rather than a baby one. The walls were lined with books and on closer inspection she discovered many of her favourites, including several editions of _Hogwarts: A History_ and some books that she had never read or heard of, but looked good when she investigated their blurbs.

She picked an old favourite novel of hers from when she was a child: _Ballet Shoes_. Comfort, she needed now. There was a comfy-looking chair in the corner, but Hermione went and sat down at the piano. She rested the book on the music stand and opened the first page.

But she couldn't concentrate. How could she? The image of Ron snogging Lavender coursed through her veins. She was seething with anger; how could he do this to her? Did he not know how she felt about him? She had only kissed one boy so far: Viktor Krum and they had not gone very far, because Karkaroff had stumbled upon them. _Awkward…_

She slammed her elbows onto the keys and held her head in her hands. The piano struck a dis-chord indignantly. The fact that even her beloved instrument seemed to be against her caused her to start sobbing uncontrollably.

Behind her, the door opened. She whipped around, wiping away her tears. In her haste to be alone, she had forgotten to close the Room off.

'What do you want, Malfoy?' she snapped, as he said, 'Why are you in the Room of Hidden Things?'

'You first,' he said.

Hermione responded with something very rude.

'Language, Granger,' he shook his head. 'Have you been crying?' he smirked. 'I'll send some flowers to the guy who did it.'

'You've tossed that one out before Malfoy. Shall I get you a new joke book for Christmas?' she snapped. 'Leave me alone.'

'So it _was _a guy,' Malfoy's smirk became infuriating. 'Did he cheat on you? Poor Granger, I could have told him not to go near you in the first place.'

'No, Malfoy, nobody cheated on me. I'm not going out with anyone.'

'Of course, what idiot would want a Mudblood? Silly me. Unless it was Weasley?'

Hermione flushed with anger.

'Oh, it was! Excellent. The Golden Trio are over then?'

'Get out, _Malfoy_, now,' Hermione demanded, her voice dangerously calm.

'No, I don't think I will, Granger,' he said cheerfully. 'Do you play?' He indicated the piano. 'Let's see what you can do.'

Leaping up, Hermione sent the books nearest to Malfoy flying towards his head with a flick of her wand. He ducked and grabbed his wand from his jeans, exploding them with his own flick. He repaired them and put them back on the shelves.

'My, you've got a temper. I expect that's the uncivilised Muggle blood in you,' he taunted. 'That's no way to treat books. Can you even read, or does Weasley do that for you? Do you just remember everything he tells you and recite it in class?'

Hermione just glared at him, her chest heaving. He moved around her and sat at the piano. He began to play.

It filled the room, with a luxurious, calming sound and Hermione turned to glower at him for daring to touch the piano.

'Come on then, Granger. Can't you play? That doesn't take the comprehension of letters, just raw talent. You got any?'

'There was a lot of fancy wording there, Malfoy,' she said. 'Move up, and I'll show you the _correct_ way to play the piano.'

Her fingers were light as she composed a bittersweet piece. Malfoy smirked, and played the theme from the _Phantom of the Opera_. She responded by playing the theme from _Jaws_.

'What is that supposed to be?' he asked, incredulous.

'It's from a film. I think it suits you.' She gradually increased the volume of the piece.

'What in the name of Merlin is a _film_?'

'A visual masterpiece. Like the theatre, but pre-recorded.'

'Know-it-all.'

'Git. And actually, I'm _Mudblood_, remember? I have an awareness of these strange things known to you as Muggle contraptions.'

'Don't call yourself that.'

Hermione laughed scathingly at that. 'So, what? You can insult me to high Heaven but I can't embrace the nickname?' She shook her head.

'No, it's more… People expect it from me, and who am I to let their expectations down? But you're a Gryffindor – it's your very nature to rise above that.'

'But accepting the name means that it'll wash off me. It removes the sting.'

He looked at her for a long while then, trying to fathom her.

'Thank you,' she said quietly.

'For what?'

'For cheering me up.'

He smiled fleetingly. 'Don't get used to it, Granger. It's only because I'm the only person who's allowed to make you cry like a baby.'

She giggled and shook her head. 'You're an arrogant hypocrite, Draco Malfoy, but you do have a sense of humour.' And she turned and left, leaving Malfoy staring after her for a long while.

_**The Main Dining Room**_

_**Malfoy Manor**_

_**Saturday 17**__**th**__** June 2004**_

_**8:47pm**_

Hermione found herself sitting next to Neville and Hannah Longbottom on her right and Lavender and Ron on her left. She felt very isolated, but Hannah was chatting to her like they'd been best friends forever, and Ron was pointedly ignoring her, which made it a great deal easier. However, soon Hannah turned to talk to Ernie MacMillan and Hermione found herself with only That Hated Woman to talk to.

'How did you get away with _that_?' she asked Lavender. 'Blaise Zabini got sent home for not wearing green and silver. You're wearing purple!'

'Well, I persuaded our Malfoy friends that red washes me out and gold makes me look slutty,' Lavender grinned, her eyes twinkling. 'And considering I just gave a huge amount of gold to their charity, they'd be ridiculous to turn me away, don't you think?'

Hermione forced a laugh. 'Ridiculous, indeed!'

'Do you know what's special about the date, Hermione?'

'No. Should I?'

'Well, I was hoping you could tell me! It's been just under seven years since our Seventh Year; not five or ten. What's to commemorate about _seven_ years?'

Ron butted his long nose in at this point. 'It's because seven is the most powerful magical number, I think. We elect the Minister for Magic every seven years, after all.'

'_That_ is a good point,' Lavender concluded, nodding. Hermione raised her eyebrows at the fickleness of the conversation. What did it matter, really?

She turned her attention towards Hannah, Ernie and Neville, but they were discussing Hannah's plans for the Leaky Cauldron, which Hermione had already endured, so she began to pick at her meal again. The meal was getting dull; the Malfoys had gone the whole hog and had served a soup, a sorbet, a starter, a sorbet, a choice of fish, meat or poultry and a sorbet, and there was still dessert and coffee to come. She had wished that she could have sat next to Ginny and Harry, but they were fiercely arguing with Zacharias Smith and she could not catch their eye. Wizarding etiquette dictated that the next course could not be served until everyone had finished, indicated by putting your cutlery together and many people had forgotten to do so, so dessert was taking a while to arrive.

Eventually a chocolate cheesecake appeared on her plate and Hermione ate her way through it. She felt as though she were at a food marathon. How were they to dance with so much food inside them?

Coffee arrived and Narcissa Malfoy stood up. She clinked her teaspoon on her glass.

'Wizards and witches, your attention one moment. May I take this opportunity to thank our House-Elves for this delicious meal,' she began. Hermione tried to keep the scepticism off her face at the comment. 'Could you all raise your wine glasses a moment, to toast the Minister for Magic and his wife?' Everyone did so. 'Now, I think we shall allow ourselves a break. The toilets are down the hall to your left, and then we shall gather in the Grand Ballroom. Please, take your time.' And she sat down.

_**The Room of Requirement**_

_**Seventh Floor, opposite Barnabas the Barmy, Hogwarts**_

_**Tuesday 7**__**th**__** January 1997**_

_**6:31pm**_

'Here again, Granger?' Malfoy's voice made her stop playing. Why did she always forget to seal the Room? 'Isn't this almost every day now?'

'It's really none of your business, Draco,' she countered. She knew he hated it when she used his first name. 'And I am aware that you come here almost every day, too. Someone might think you're stalking me.'

He gave a scathing laugh, but refrained from insulting her. 'You never did get around to telling me about your skiing trip yesterday.'

Hermione shrugged. 'It was a skiing trip. I'm God-awful at it, but still my parents drag me to Italy at every opportunity. They don't seem to understand that I _like_ Christmas at home.'

'No, you just don't like going skiing. You could try ice-skating?' he suggested. She rolled her eyes.

'And leave the good old Earth for frozen water? I think not. Are we going to play or what?'

It was Malfoy's turn to shrug. 'I suppose so. What else is there to do?'

Hermione rested her fingers on the keys, but she couldn't play. 'Draco, why do you keep coming here? I _know_ you're hoping that you can get into the Room alone. You're looking for another version.'

'I know how to get into the Room, Granger. But I wouldn't ask, because you don't want to know.' His eyes cut her questions off. 'Can you teach me another Muggle piece?'

_**The Main Dining Room, Women's Bathrooms and Lesser Ballroom**_

_**Malfoy Manor**_

_**Saturday 17**__**th**__** June 2004**_

_**8:59pm**_

Hermione left her coffee half-finished and turned out of the dining room. She needed some space to think. She went to the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water, but soon that was filled with giggling, tipsy women. She left, wondering where on Earth the Grand Ballroom could be. If they had a _Grand_ Ballroom, did that mean there were lesser ballrooms? How bizarre. She was a great war heroine, but she could barely afford one-bedroomed flat. The Malfoys had scraped through a trial, and still they had millions of Galleons to their name.

She found a set of huge, wood-panelled doors. She stopped outside them, but they did not swing open. Not here, then, she thought, but somehow she couldn't turn away. She pressed her palm to the door and abruptly, it did open. She walked in, finding herself pleasantly alone. Unlike the rest of the ornate stately home, this room had basic wood flooring and white walls, although it still had a high ceiling. Her heels clicked sharply on the floor. Evening sunlight poured through four, giant windows on the far wall. The only furniture in the room was a magnificent grand piano. She walked up to it, in awe. It was so beautiful. She stroked her hand over the keys, desperate to play. Stealing a glance behind her at the door, she sat down on the stool.

_I'll just play something brief_, she thought. C, D, E, F, G, G, F, E, D, C. She played the old finger exercise her piano teacher had taught her. C, G, F, G, E, G, D, G, C, G, F, G, E, D, C. Her eyes roamed the keys. She hadn't played in so long; her flat could barely house her old baby piano, let alone something of this size. She played the finger exercise again in A minor, then D minor. The melancholy notes struck her. She played a few chords with her left hand.

She had intended to play an old piece; _Au Clair de La Lune_ was incredibly simple. Instead, she swept her hair over one shoulder and found herself composing. Her fingers flew over the keys and her body swelled and surged, lost in the music. She did not know who she was playing for, Draco or Ron. Lost loves, who had found happiness with other girls. _I'll find someone. Someone like you. Someone like who?_ Her fingers stopped; the last chord hung in the air. Behind her, someone was slowly applauding.

'Might I tell you that you look _stunning_, tonight, Granger?' Malfoy asked, slouching towards her.

'You might,' she replied, her chin rising arrogantly.

'You know you _really_ shouldn't be in here.'

'I'm sorry. The door didn't open -'

'But you touched it, I know. It recognised you.'

'What do you mean?'

'Your blood was spilt here. The Manor recognises friends and foes, and when my family changed sides, you became a friend. The Manor knows who you are, and you're a part of the family. You're the only guest who could've Apparated directly into the building tonight.'

'Your wards only acknowledge _blood_?' she asked, stunned.

'I haven't heard you play like that since we were in school,' he changed the subject casually.

She gasped sharply and narrowed her eyes. 'I haven't played in a while, so you'll have to forgive me.'

'No, it was incredible. Budge up.' He sat next to her on the stool and noticed her glare. 'What? You thought I'd forget that I watched you play for a year in the Room of Requirement? You thought I'd forget everything? I spent a year with you in private and the next time I saw you I let you get tortured by my aunt. I didn't forget,' his voice was heavy with bitterness. Softly, he said, 'We're not actually married, you know. She proposed to me on February 29th, but I said no. We're not even really going out.'

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. He gave a small smile and took her left arm. He turned it over and traced the faint scars. _Mudblood._ Her eyes found his and she saw the unspoken apology in them. Why was he apologising now? It made no sense.

She took his left arm, too, and pressed it against hers. 'War scars,' she said.__

_**Drawing Room**_

_**Malfoy Manor**_

_**Tuesday 24**__**th**__** March 1998**_

_**2:53pm**_

Hermione lay, in and out of consciousness, on the floor of the drawing room. She could feel her arms splayed out at right angles beside her and her legs were tucked up into her. She could still feel the pain from the Cruciatus Curse.

'Now then, Granger, we'll find out if you're lying,' Bellatrix was saying. 'Get the goblin!'

Hermione felt a knife pierce through her skin on her left arm. She screamed. 'Let's see how filthy your blood really is,' Bellatrix laughed. The knife pierced her in square strokes another time. Another. Another. Twenty more times. _Keep counting_, she told herself. _You're still alive._

She felt Bellatrix get up and saw the swish of her robes through her partly-closed eyes. Relief welled up inside her and the tears flowed freely, even though she was too weak to move. She could feel blood trickling down her arm.

Suddenly, she felt someone kneel beside her.

'Shh, it's okay, it's okay.' A man's voice.

'Ron?' she murmured.

'No,' he whispered, 'but he's coming.'

Hermione smiled weakly, and became quite still. He was here, he was safe. She didn't have the energy to wonder who was holding her hand, but he was talking to her, keeping her conscious. She could hear Bellatrix screaming at Griphook.

'I don't blame you, you know, for thinking that you didn't know me at all,' he whispered softly. 'I kept trying to behave like there wasn't something wrong and to ignore you, but I couldn't.' It sounded like this man was confessing. To her? Who was he? Where was Ron? 'You must understand, I was trying to protect everyone. You can't say no to him. Just know… I'm _sorry_. I really am. I haven't stopped thinking about you. You know, every time I see your face in my mind all I can think is about how cruel I was to you.' Cruel to her? Who was? There were people dying, but she was alive. _Alive._ 'You showed me how much better I could be, Hermione.' Hermione. That was her name, wasn't it? 'Those stolen hours with you, I could be myself and not…_this_. I want to live that every day. You say truths, Hermione. Merlin knows, you're one of the few honest people I've ever known. You know exactly how to get to me. And I'm _sorry_, with all my heart. I hope you understand. I know I let you down, but this is me making amends. I tried to lie – I didn't want it to be you three. Please, please, get rid of him. _Please._'

When Hermione arrived at Shell Cottage, she remembered nothing of the angel that made her cling to life. And that angel made sure that she never did.

_**The Lesser Ballroom**_

_**Malfoy Manor**_

_**Saturday 17**__**th**__** June 2004**_

_**9:12pm**_

He took his turn to play, to compose. The music was red – dark and alluring. The colour of blood, the colour of love. While her fingers had soared lightly over the keys, his were heavy. _Bom, bom, bom._

'You're in love with her,' Hermione commented.

'No,' he smirked, 'she's not in love with me. Ah, unrequited love.' Hermione blushed; it was not often that she was wrong about a piece of music. 'It's okay. I'm intent on wooing her before we do marry, you know. That's why I said no. She's not having me for my money. She can at least like me first.'

Hermione laughed; at least he wasn't bitter. But her heart did sink. Unrequited love, he had said. Would she ever find that person? The one she loved but didn't love back? The one she, therefore, couldn't hurt?

_**The field behind The Burrow**_

_**Ottery St Catchpole, Devon**_

_**Friday 25**__**th**__** July 1997**_

_**11:56pm**_

Ron and Hermione were lying on their backs in the field of long grass, staring at the sky. She could hear the gnomes they had thrown over the wall that day crawling around, grumbling.

'So, tell me more about the Muggle constellations,' Ron said.

'There's not much to tell. They all have stories behind them, but I don't know them all. And it's not like they're anything really different from Wizarding constellations.'

'They're still cool,' Ron argued.

'You should show this much interest in Astronomy! Here, I'll try and find your sign of the zodiac.'

'My what?'

'Your star sign. Your birthday is 1st March, so… You're an Aries; the ram.'

'Hermione, would you care to explain what you're on about?'

'It's nonsense, really. Some Muggles believe that you can predict the future from your star sign. It's worse than Divination really – at least that has some truth in it.'

'And I'm an Air-eez?'

'Aries, yes. It's to do with when the Sun is in a certain constellation when you're born, or something.'

'Hermione Granger, not knowing everything about something? What is the world coming to?'

Hermione smiled fleetingly, then. 'I think we know what the world's coming to.'

'Yeah, well. There's still a place for jokes.'

'We're going to be in this thing for a long time. It could be years.'

'I know. I know what I signed up for.'

'Do you? You won't run out on us? Because it will be tough.'

Ron sat up. 'No, I won't. I've done the ghoul, haven't I? Now, cheer up, because you're depressing me, too. This is meant to be a happy time, remember? It's Harry's birthday next week, and the wedding. Good things, right?'

'Yeah. Good things.'

_**Hermione Granger's Flat**_

_**Sunday 28**__**th**__** October 2001**_

_**8:22am**_

Hermione's heart was beating loudly. It sounded suspiciously like footsteps in the kitchen. _There's no one there_, she thought. _No one._ She sighed loudly. Look at her; Ron had been gone for six months and she was still clinging on to him. She stared at the ceiling, remembering every moment they'd ever shared, right from when she was a thirteen-year-old girl with a crush on a prick with a rat. She remembered everything they'd gone through together; the search for the Philosopher's Stone, the events in the Shrieking Shack, the DA, the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, the Battle of the Astronomy Tower, the hunt for the Horcruxes, the Battle of Hogwarts. How could she have thrown it all away?

She'd been remembering those times too much lately; when time itself had stood still. She'd hurt Ron, not the other way around. She deserved this pain. And she should move on, find somebody new. _I don't want somebody new; I want _Ron_, _her body screamed at her.

People change, she reminded herself. These things happen. _Oh, but I remember how it was…_ She'd loved him forever, she knew. And that rarely happened.

An echo of a memory crept into her mind: 'Nothing will change for us, Hermione.' Right, and then she threw it all away.

_Ron, Ron, can you hear me? If you're out there, somewhere. I'm still waiting. I'm sorry. Forgive me?_ She waited with bated breath – would there be a knock at the door? Of course not.

He'd have come back to me before, Hermione thought. 'It's not that easy,' he'd said. But it is. He'd have come back if I hadn't locked him out; if I hadn't blamed him. If this were a novel… He'd be here by now.

She threw back her sheets in frustration. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

_**The Lesser Ballroom**_

_**Malfoy Manor**_

_**Saturday 17**__**th**__** June 2004**_

_**9:23pm**_

'Why did you leave?' The question came unexpectedly. They'd been fooling around, trying to out-play each other. She tinkered for a moment on the high notes, playing the introduction to a piece she might write.

'Because I couldn't hurt him anymore. I didn't want to. It was killing him. Every time I left the house to "hang with Ginny" he just… died a little more inside. Every time I did it, all I could think was "I should just put my wand to his head right now. _Avada_ him." It would have put him out of his misery. So I told him the truth. And he left me. He'd been waiting for it. The only reason he stayed was because he thought he was wrong. Hoped, rather. We both knew what was going on.'

Malfoy smiled with sad eyes. 'What a mess we've made, hmm?'

_**The Room of Requirement**_

_**Seventh Floor, opposite Barnabas the Barmy, Hogwarts**_

_**Thursday 22**__**nd**__** May 1997**_

_**10:37pm**_

'Have you figured it out yet?'

'What?'

'That thing you're trying to fix. Harry keeps banging on about… Well, he reckons that you're trying to do something in this Room.'

'Hermione…'

She frowned at him using her first name. 'Yes?'

There was a pause. 'If I were to just, I don't know, lay on the couch all night… Would you lie with me?'

'What are you talking about, Malfoy?'

'I love you.'

Her eyebrows shot up. 'Get over yourself, Malfoy. You don't love anyone.'

'I said too much, didn't I?'

Her eyes softened. He had seemed to be losing himself this year. After Christmas there had been no more insults; he seemed too tired. They'd played the piano in Hermione's version of the Room because she kept seeming to 'forget' to close the Room. Quietly, she said, 'Not quite enough.'

'It's weird, because I shouldn't feel like this. And I don't know if I _am_ in love with you, and Merlin only knows that I hope I'm not, but when I'm with you, stuff makes sense. When I'm with you, I just want to waste time. I don't want to leave the Room.'

Hermione had never thought Draco Malfoy would be capable of saying such beautiful things, especially not to her. She thought of his sex-buddy, Pansy Parkinson. Still just sex-buddies, then.

'It's like, everything that I am – that I ever was, that I ever will be – is in your eyes. And I don't know when or how or where this happened, but it did, and it's real, so I'm asking you, would you stay with me? And just forget everything?'

'I would.'

_**Magical Registry Office**_

_**Wiltshire, England**_

_**Saturday 15**__**th**__** August 2004**_

_**2:00pm**_

Hermione sat, clutching Ron's hand as if it were a lifeline. They had gotten back together at Malfoy's reunion and she could honestly say it was one of the happiest moments of her life. It had happened long after Kingsley had left, and Ron had furiously stumbled across Lavender snogging Cormac McLaggen to death. Hermione hadn't asked for details, and Ron had steered the conversation towards what went wrong in their relationship. They concluded that they were still madly in love with each other and agreed to give it another go. So far, it had been going strong.

'I can't believe he's just going to marry her!' Hermione whispered.

'Hermione, he's at liberty to marry whoever he wants,' Ron replied in a bored voice.

'But she's so wrong for him!'

'I doubt that very much,' Ron said dryly. 'They're both pure-blood Slytherins. Astoria's family barely scraped trial, and Malfoy himself was a Death Eater. What a match.'

'It's so rushed, though. Maybe she's pregnant?'

Ginny turned around from her seat in front. 'Hermione, this isn't a soap opera. Could you calm down?'

Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny were the only Gryffindors at the wedding. She supposed it was penance for the fact they saved his life. She wondered whether Draco had managed to make Astoria fall in love with him. She hoped so.

Mendelssohn's March began to play in a very low, depressing key. It sounds like a death march, Hermione giggled to herself. Astoria's puffy dress preceded her and her father. Her elder sister, Daphne, was the only bridesmaid. The two girls processed down the aisle like royalty, and Draco turned his head towards his bride. In doing so, he caught Hermione's eye. _You wish it were me, you wish it were me, don't you?_

What would happen if she stood up now, told him not to say 'I do'? She'd re-break her and Ron's heart, and Astoria's. Truthfully, she did look happy. And not the I'm-a-rich-witch-who's-about-to-get-richer sort of happy, either. She looked… Radiant. It was the only way to describe it.

'If any person here knows of any lawful reason why these two cannot be wed, for example either partner is not a part of the Beings Division, speak now or forever hold you peace.'

Silence. Last chance. 'Don't,' she breathed. And then the moment was gone. The vows, the gold bond, the stars.

'I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.'

After the ceremony, when they were all gathered outside, it was Hermione who caught the bouquet.

_**West Wing**_

_**Malfoy Manor**_

_**Monday 30**__**th**__** December 2029**_

_**5:31pm**_

'Why can't you accept that our children are in love?'

'Because, Granger, no child of mine is ever going to marry a half-blood Weasley. Much less have children with one.'

'You did,' Hermione countered, her eyes narrowing. 'Or did you forget?'

'Yes, and didn't you get rid of it, Granger?'

'I did that on your suggestion! It was for the _best_. You were a Death Eater; I was a Muggle-born about to set out on the most dangerous thing I've ever done. There wasn't a chance for that baby!'

'So you eliminated it. Now, Granger, get out of my house. And make sure your daughter never comes near my son again.'

Hermione slapped him with all the force she could muster in her left hand. Her engagement ring caught Malfoy's face, causing a deep cut.

'Hit me again, Granger,' he said, stepping closer to her.

'It's _Mrs Weasley_,' she said furiously, before stepping into the fireplace and Flooing home.

_**The Third Floor Charms Corridor**_

_**Hogwarts, Scotland**_

_**Friday 13**__**th**__** June 1997**_

_**4:37pm**_

Hermione hurtled away from the last lesson of the day: Charms. Eventually, she was alone. She had run in the opposite direction from the other Gryffindors and she found herself in a deserted corridor. From the other direction, Draco Malfoy appeared. Hermione promptly turned on her heel, but Malfoy grabbed her arm.

'We need to talk about this.'

'There's nothing to talk about. I just thought you should know.'

'Are you going to keep it?'

'I really don't think that's any of your business.'

'So you are? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.'

Hermione frowned, caught out. 'Why?'

'Because I'm a Death Eater and you're Muggle-born. And after tonight, I really don't think it'll be a good idea to bring that baby into the world.'

'Why? What's happening tonight?'

'That is none of your business. But stay away from the Astronomy Tower. And for Merlin's sake, _get rid of it_.' Malfoy turned on his heel and stalked away.

_**The Lesser Ballroom**_

_**Malfoy Manor**_

_**Saturday 17**__**th**__** June 2004**_

_**9:24pm**_

He began to play a Muggle piece, _The Rose._ She was surprised he knew it. He indicated with his eyes for her to sing.

'Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reeds.' She felt a little foolish, but he smiled.

'Some say love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed,' he sang the next line.

'Some say love, it is a hunger: an endless aching need.'

'I say love, it is a flower and you're its only seed.' He stopped playing and playfully kissed her neck. She rolled her eyes.

'It's "you".'

'What?'

'The line is "I say love, it is a flower and _you_, it's only seed."'

'Nah, that doesn't make sense.'

'It doesn't have to. It's a song. Bette Midler had poetic license.'

'She would have, if she had written it.'

Hermione rolled her eyes again and he picked up playing the next verse. '_Sing_, then. Sing it right.'

'It's the heart, afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. It's the dream, afraid of waking that never takes the chance. It's the one who won't be taking who cannot seem to give.'

'And the soul, afraid of dying that never learns to live,' Malfoy finished.

Together, they sang, 'When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long, and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong...'

'Just remember,' she sang alone, 'in the winter, far beneath the bitter snow…'

'…lies the seed that with the Sun's love in the spring becomes the rose.' And he kissed her, one final time. Behind her, Hermione heard the swish of jealous robes.

_**Mr and Mrs R Weasley's Residence**_

_**Chudley, Devon**_

_**Friday 1**__**st**__** September 2090**_

_**9:47pm**_

Hermione was dreaming. In her dream, she was young and sat at a piano. There were two indistinct figures either side of her. One was Draco Malfoy, she knew, and the other was Ron.

She looked down at the keys, then back at Malfoy. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to say things he couldn't undo. She sighed heavily. If she had her way, she'd never get over him. She took his hands in hers.

'I don't want to talk about this,' her dream-self said. 'I don't want a conversation. I just want to sit here, one last time.' And her dream-self began to cry.

'Ron, I've been with you all my life. I miss you so much. Every thought of you brings me back to life when I'm down with your incessant stupidity. You bring me back under those stars that night all those years ago – back into your arms.

'And I don't want to fall apart just because I messed up. I just want to cry in front of you, so you can see how I feel.

'Draco, I wish I knew how you felt. I want to know what was real about us. But, you know, I'm not holding out for anything. I love Ron.'

Hermione could barely open her eyes. 'Ron…' she whispered, with her last breath.

**A/N: Okay, firstly, I know I used a scene from the film. I am well aware that in the novels Hermione never had 'Mudblood' carved into her arm. However, it's my favourite scene out of any of the films, because it's so poignant. She's eternally branded, like Harry and Malfoy. War scars, like Hermione says.**

**I called this 'Rapture' for a reason. To me, "rapture" is not a very pleasurable word to say. It sounds filthy in my mouth. I don't like the taste, the feel, the sound of it. Which, I think, conveys Hermione's emotions rather well here. She's seeking pleasure and finding it in the wrong place. Cardinal sin, right? Malfoy's all wrong for her and towards the end he's just mean again. He's spiteful and bitter because he fell for her, but it was a bad love. In good love you regret it but can't and won't change anything. The second definition, about it being to do with those who'll survive Christ's Second Coming symbolises Voldemort's second coming, in 1994. He's the anti-Christ, and in those denominations of Christianity, Jesus, to me, becomes the anti-Christ. Jesus, not showing mercy? That's not the man, God, I know and love. Hermione survives Voldemort's second coming, but it's not a better place emotionally. She has nothing to strive for any more. A better world, yes, but after that? What do you do once your world is perfect, in your eyes? There's nothing to aim for anymore. What happens after success? I hope to God I never achieve self-actualisation. How dull.**

**I have a list of songs that inspired this fic, and often I outright stole lyrics. See if you can spot where. Here's the list:**

_Someone like You, Adele_

_Red, Daniel Merriweather_

_Unfaithful, Rihanna_

_The Rose, Bette Midler_

_Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol_

_Speak Now, Taylor Swift_

_If this [were] a Movie, Taylor Swift_

_What You Mean to Me, Sterling Knight_

_I'm Only Me when I'm with You, Taylor Swift_

_Fall to Pieces, Avril Lavigne_

**I figured that Hermione and Ron would live somewhere in the south of England (it's a beautiful place), and Ottery St Catchpole is meant to be in Devon. I thought that maybe Ron wouldn't want to move too far away and there's a real place called Chudleigh Knighton in Devon. I just took several liberties with it. I could see Ron living in the birthplace of the Chudley Cannons.**

**Finally, in my book, Ron and Hermione are meant to be together. However, this struck me when I was reading RZZMG's fics and it wouldn't go away. So it's kind of Dramione, but of course Ron and Hermione end up together. Yay! Moreover, this is the first time I've written anything in the third person for several years (I like to get into a character, and in third person it's more difficult to say what they're actually thinking) so tell me what you think! Please don't be mean, but constructive criticism would be appreciated. Like, 'Never write like this again. Stick to the first person,' is not mean. But, 'I hate you, I hate your writing, please delete your stories,' is. So, pick the former, please.**


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